


Eighteen

by MilkTeaMiku



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Brotherly Love, Codependency, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Possessive Dean, Possessive Dean Winchester, Sexual Tension, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 14:19:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7466610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilkTeaMiku/pseuds/MilkTeaMiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As soon as Sam is eighteen, Dean will take custody of him and whisk him away out from under the hands of the Church. Sam's looking forward to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eighteen

Dean and Sam had been inseparable from the moment Mary came home two days after giving birth to her second child. While there were brief bouts of _I was here first_ and _you don’t pay enough attention to me anymore so I’m going to be a problem to you,_ they were over and done with within a week. After that, it was Dean that got protective of the baby, and Dean that woke up from the very first whimper in the middle of the night from the room next door.

Sammy hardly ever cried as a baby because Dean would sneak into his wooden crib to sleep curled around him. He never woke Mary or John up for a feed because Dean woke up like clockwork to do it even though his parents told him to stay away from the hot water needed to mix the sweet baby milk. He kissed Sam goodnight and tucked him in and brushed his hair. He was a good big brother. The best. And when Mary died six months later from a freak house fire and John drowned his grief in alcohol and other scandalous things, Dean became his sole companion and caregiver, too. It was a responsibility he took very seriously.

When they grew older, their closeness was considered less a bond of brotherly affection and something that was more of a concern than previously thought. Their dad was way too messed up to notice, but other people did. Kind neighbours that dropped off baked foods every Sunday and the tutors at their school and even the patrons from the Church took note of it with vague distaste and hushed murmurs. People stared at the odd Winchester brothers and instructed their children to avoid them in case their souls had been touched by the devil.

Of course, Dean supposed they had reason to be concerned. As Sammy got older, the way he wanted Dean to take care of him changed. He was, of course, completely willing to fulfil each and every one of Sam’s needs, no matter what they were. He was enthusiastic, even. Sam would always be Dean’s baby boy, even as he grew taller and broader, and Dean’s protectiveness only increased as Sam became a hormonal teenager. They were meant to be making careers from themselves at that age, to be finishing school and marrying some pretty girl from down the lane.

Neither of them did.

As far as adults were concerned, Dean had always thought he was respectful enough to go unnoticed and rebellious enough to be thought of as independent. He’d always done everything he could for Sam, and he had their whole future planned. As soon as he was eighteen he would take custody of Sam and whisk him away somewhere where no one knew they were brothers and Sam could get the fancy education he wanted. Dean didn’t know what he’d do – work in an auto shop or something – but he’d do anything to ensure Sam’s wellbeing. 

Then the Church had interfered. They’d ruined his plans and his eighteenth birthday uneventfully passed. It hadn’t been John’s blatant neglect that drove them to take custody of Sam, it had been Dean’s _affection._ In either case, Sam was taken from him and sent to live at the Church where the Nuns could dress him up like a pretty doll and teach him to parrot Bible verses at them. They’d made him _respectable_ and _eligible_ and Dean was not having it. That life wasn’t what he wanted for Sam, and Sam was _his._

There wasn’t anything he could do about Sam’s custody until Sam was eighteen, but that didn’t stop _Sam_ from rebelling. And rebel he did. He learned from the best, after all, just how to piss off people who weren’t letting you do what you wanted to do. He was following in Dean’s footsteps and Dean couldn’t be prouder.

Sneaking out from under the watchful eyes of the Nuns was the hard part, but Sam managed to do it. Dean had long since left John to rot in their own house and instead inhabited a small, dingy place that was perfect for hiding. Sam snuck in through the back window and crawled straight into Dean’s bed and, for a short while, they were as they always had been – together. 

“Only one more month,” Sam huffed against Dean’s collarbones one evening. He was dressed in the fine clothes the Nuns gave him; pressed, linen pants and a cotton shirt and the same type of tie that every respectable gentleman wore. He would look the part too, if Dean didn’t know him better. “Then I can be with you. Properly.”

Dean only chuckled at Sam’s petulance, and ran a hand down his back. “You’re with me now, aren’t you?” He teased as he pressed a leg between Sam’s. 

Sam groaned at him, and sunk his teeth into the flesh of Dean’s neck. “You know what I mean,” he said sourly.

Dean winced at the bite and ran his hand down Sam’s back again. “I know, I know,” he said, serious this time. “You’re all mine.”

There’s a whine burning in Sam’s throat as he turned his face into Dean’s neck. His lips found a vulnerable spot and started to suck. He’s allowed to leave all the marks he wants, but Dean can’t – the Nuns would notice and as much as he wants to mark up Sammy as his, they would send him so far out of Dean’s reach that it’d take years to find him. 

“What do you want, baby boy?” Dean asked as he slipped a hand under Sam’s fancy shirt. “Gotta tell me or I won’t do it.”

Sam whined again and pressed against the leg Dean had between his. He grasped a fistful of Dean’s shirt to tug on. “Want you to touch me,” he pleaded. “Please, Dean.”

Dean raked his nails back up Sam’s spine and delighted in the delicious arch it prompted. He hated to admit it but Sam was probably going to be bigger than him one day, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be able to play Sam’s body like a well-oiled machine. “I am touching you, Sammy,” he teased again, ducking forwards to trace his lips over the shell of Sam’s ear where it peeked through his hair. “Tell me where.”

“Everywhere,” Sam gasped. He pawed at Dean’s shirt and rutted his hips against Dean’s in a desperate search for friction. _“Dean.”_

“Shh,” he cooed, lifted his free hand to run his fingers through Sam’s soft hair. It was long enough for him to grab so he did, using his grip to tilt Sam’s head back far enough to meet his eyes and place a soft, mischievous kiss on his lips. When he spoke, it was a whispered promise in a deep tone that he knew made Sam unbearably aroused. “You’re my little brother, and I’ll do _everything_ you ask me to.”


End file.
